


Home With You

by mendeshoney



Series: Best Friends to Lovers AU [2]
Category: Shawn Mendes (Musician)
Genre: F/M, Implied Relationships, Mutual Pining, Pining
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-05
Updated: 2018-12-05
Packaged: 2019-09-12 10:00:38
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,787
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16870900
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mendeshoney/pseuds/mendeshoney
Summary: Shawn lived with you for six months. You remembered more of what it was like to live with him more than what it was like to live alone. This is the two of you in 2016.





	Home With You

##  **March 2016 - Moving In**

_“surprised you by buying you furniture you wanted from IKEA”_

You were bundled up on your couch, avoiding the pouring rain outside with Netflix playing and a freshly made mug of your famous hot chocolate sitting on your coffee table. You’re freshly showered, just waiting for your hair to dry and relaxing from the long day. You just started filming this action movie and between training, fight choreography, and filming you were absolutely exhausted.

You’re just about ready to say “fuck it” to you hair and go to bed when there’s a sad sounding knock on your door. You pad over in your socked feet, jaw dropping in shock when you see Shawn standing on your doorstep with his suitcase, a guitar case, and backpack. He’s soaking wet from head to toe, his clothes sticking to him and he’s shivering from the combination of the rain and cold night air.

“Oh my god,” you murmur, immediately pulling him inside. You reach for his suitcase and bring it inside, placing it next to your umbrella holder, and you do the same with his guitar case and backpack, taking them from him before shutting the door and locking the cold out.

He’s silent the entire time, says nothing to you when guiding him upstairs towards your bathroom. You turn on the shower and let it run, before turning to him and taking in his appearance - his short curls are matted to his head, and he’s still shivering, clothes sticking to his skin and his eyes are staring right back at you, watching you. You can tell he has a lot on his mind that he wants to talk about, but he can’t do that right now if he’s close to getting hypothermia.

“Shower first,” you tell him, “shower first and then we can talk, okay?”

He nods, starts to strip down and you exit the bathroom quickly, not wanting to disturb his privacy. You make quick work of getting one of your fluffy white towels and putting it in the dryer, making sure it’ll be warm enough for Shawn when he gets out. You make a point to go through his suitcase to grab him a new pair of underwear, sweatpants, and socks. The kitchen is your next stop, making another mug of your famous hot chocolate for him to have, putting in seven marshmallows like you know Shawn likes.

You grab the mug and his clothes, bringing them up to your room and placing them on the nightstand, before heading back down to the laundry room and grabbing his towel. When you head back up, the water’s shut off, and you know Shawn is waiting for you. You hand him his towel and clothes through the crack he makes in the door, and he takes it, and you wait on your bed for him to come out.

When he does, his skin is red from the heat, the towel wrapped around his naked torso, his lower half clothed and covered. “I need a place to stay.” Shawn says, sitting by the heater in your bedroom. He looks dejected, almost like he didn’t just finish the first few dates of his world tour only four days ago His skin is still tan from being in Florida. “My apartment won’t be ready for awhile, they said it was move in ready but turns out it needs a few renovations and they said it’d take awhile.” He grabs his mug of hot chocolate, taking an appreciative sip. “I know that it’s a lot to ask, but can I crash here? It’ll only be for a little while and I promise I’ll help you pay rent.”

Your heart breaks at the news. He had searched for the right apartment for months, and when he found it, he was so excited to move in and start living like “an adult,” or so he put it. The fact that he couldn’t now clearly was upsetting him, and ruining whatever plans he had in his head. You smile at him in response. “You’re not paying rent, Shawn. Of course you can stay with me. You can stay as long as you’d like.”

Shawn smiles softly, says a quiet “thank you” and takes another sip of his hot chocolate.

You watch him for a moment, thinking about how quickly the two of you became friends and how far you’ve both come. Your mind wanders along with your eyes, admiring Shawn and his physical growth - how tall he’s become, growing out of that boyish body but still keeping his boyish charm, his muscles becoming more defined as the tour progresses.

You school your thoughts - remembering the fact that he’s still seventeen and that there’s a three year age difference between the two of you, and he’s also  _just_  your best friend. You get up from your spot, smiling at him again. “I’m gonna go set up the spare room for you, so whenever you’re ready you can go to sleep. I know you’re probably exhausted.”

Shawn looks like he wants to say something else to you, but instead he doesn’t just gives you a smile and takes a small sip of his hot chocolate. The way he looked at you doesn’t leave your head though, and you do your best to stop your heart from racing as you head to the hall closet.

-

It was a little awkward at first, being in each other’s spaces like you hadn’t before. You were just getting used to being alone all the time, walking around either butt naked in just underwear and an oversized shirt, so Shawn caught quite the eye full the first few days. He was fine at first with sleeping in your guest room, but as you both grew comfortable (having seen the other naked one too many times) you found yourselves sharing your bed about two weeks after he moved in.

“Your bed’s a thousand times better than that piece of crap you have in the guest room.” He said to you the morning after your first night in bed.

“What the fuck are you talking about?” You laughed out, putting both of your cereal bowls in the sink.

“Your bed. It’s amazing. I haven’t slept in ages. Last night was the best sleep I got since I’ve been here.”

“Shawn!” You exclaim, hitting him lightly on his chest. “You could’ve just told me. I would’ve bought you another mattress for your room.”

He blinks at you, but you don’t seem to catch on to what you’ve just said.  _Your room._ Shawn had a room here? “My room?” He asks.

You shrug. “It might as well be your room. If you want. I mean I don’t mind sharing my bed with you but if you want your own room here for like…I don’t know, privacy? Then yeah you can make the guest room your own room.”

“Are you sure that’s the decision you want to make?” He asks. “Cause you know how I am. Once it’s out there you can’t take it back.”

You roll your eyes. “Shut up and get dressed, Mendes. We’re going to IKEA to get your stupid mattress and then we’re going to Crate and Barrel so I can get stuff for my studio downstairs.”

-

You’re putting the bedding onto Shawn’s new mattress, trying to distract yourself from the fact that this is  _his_  room now, but he’s not even moving in - not really. He’s only here until his apartment is finished and then he’s going back to Toronto, and “his” mattress will most likely stay here, and it’ll go back to being the guest room.

You didn’t understand why you were getting upset about it now, considering you were the one who insisted on buying him the stupid thing. You wanted him to be comfortable while staying here, but also, you did enjoy having someone to share your bed with, let alone share the apartment with.

You’re just about done, fluffing the pillows when Shawn clears his throat from the doorway, leaning against it with that suspicious little smirk on his face.

“What?” You question, smiling slightly. “What’s with the face?”

“I may or may not have bought something for you from IKEA without your knowledge.”

You narrow your eyes at him. “How is that even possible? I was with you the entire time we were in the store.”

“Remember when I went to pee?”

“Oh my god, you sneak!”

Shawn laughs at you. “Do you want to see it or not?”

He leads you downstairs to your studio, where the lights are off, but the studio is illuminated by candle light. There are seven candles lined up on the small IVAR shelving unit that wasn’t there before, the candles placed in the white SKURAR candle holders, the lace design creating patterns on the walls. Both items clearly came from Shawn, and you immediately turn to him, wrapping him up into a hug and smiling into his chest.

“How’d you even get this in the car? How’d you get it in the house without me noticing?”

He chuckles. “Wasn’t easy. Had to steal your car keys a few times.”

You pause a bit, the reality of things setting in a little and pull away from him. Shawn bought you furniture from IKEA, furniture you could afford yourself but that you didn’t get, and he knew you wanted. “Why’d you do this?” You ask him, tone a little quiet, drifting.

The corner of his mouth perks up into a small smile. “Well, you’re letting me stay with you? And you went out of your way to get me stuff to make me feel comfortable and I just…well I don’t know, I thought that it would only be fair to get you something in return?”

The answer makes you hug him again in appreciation, and Shawn responds in kind, wrapping his arms around you and pulling you close, his heart beating so loud in his chest he hopes you don’t hear it.

-

##  **April 2016 - Month One**

_“He bought you flowers every week,”_

The ringing sounds coming from your laptop fill your living room as you adjust the camera, making sure that the flowers behind you are within frame while you wait for Shawn to answer. You had just gotten home from a long day of filming to find twelve dozen roses in various colors decorating your living room.

The card on the largest of the bouquets read, “Go bestfriend, that’s my bestfriend! Love, Shawn” and you nearly cried tears with how hard you were laughing, but also with how much his support meant to you. He knew that today you were filming a majority of your stunt scenes. You had trained so much because you were adamant on doing as many of your own scenes as possible, and filming in New York City can prove difficult sometimes, so your director clumped a lot of the stunts to be filmed in the same day. You expressed to Shawn how stressful it was going to be for you, given that this was such a big day, but you never expected him to remember.

“Good morning,” his sleep rough voice greets you, and it’s only then you think about the time difference. You glance at the clock on your laptop, factoring in that if it’s just past midnight in New York, it’s barely even time for Shawn to wake up in Germany.

“Whoops,” you say quietly. “I’m sorry, I forgot you weren’t in Toronto. Ignore me, call be back when you’re awake, okay?”

The covers are cocooned around him and his head, only his face poking out as he shakes his head. “No, I’m okay. I was waiting for you anyway. Wanted to make sure you got home okay.” He yawns a bit, then smiles softly. “I see you got my flowers.”

You giggle. “I did. Shawn you really didn’t have to do this. It’s too sweet.”

“You deserve it.” He says. “You work so hard, and someone needs to remind you that your hard work doesn’t go unnoticed.”

“I could say the same for you, you know.” You say. “This tour is only the beginning. You’re gonna sell out arenas, stadiums, the whole nine. Next year’s gonna be huge for you, I can already tell.”

Shawn chuckles. “You’re still gonna be my best friend next year?”

“And every year after that, rockstar.” You say. “Also, how did you manage to get these in my apartment?”

Shawn laughs. “Kennedy helped me out. Took a little convincing but she agreed.”

You shake your head. “She’s got a soft spot for you, but don’t tell her that I told you.”

“Wouldn’t dare.”

You pick up on the thickness of his voice, and know you should probably let him get back to bed. “Hey, I’m gonna let you go. Get some more rest, okay? Text me later, if you want.”

He nods, eyes already falling shut. “I will. Love you dude.”

You smile at him, “I love you too.”

* * *

Two days later, you get home from filming a little earlier than normal, the sun just setting beyond the horizon and the smell of fresh roses hits your nostrils almost immediately. There’s three brand new bouquets of white roses on the table, and you can’t help but laugh to yourself.

You set your belongings down and take a picture of them with your phone, sending it to Shawn with the caption  _ **“They’re so pretty, thank you! Xxx”**_

You’ve just brought up the last of the three to your room, setting them down nearest the other ones when Shawn replies.

_**“Not as pretty as you, glad you like them x”** _

His reply makes your heart stop, immediately shaking the forming thoughts from your head. You two were just friends, and nothing more.

Right?

-

##  **May 2016 - Month Two**

_“he paid half of all the bills, washed your clothes, brushed your hair, bought groceries”_

The door shuts behind you and a sigh of relief leaves your lips, thankful to have another day of filming and stunts behind you. This action movie is probably the hardest thing you’ve done thus far, and as proud as you are of all the work you’re putting into it, you can’t wait for it to be over.

Soft tapping catches your attention, making you drop your things on the couch and walk further inside, where you find Shawn sitting at one of barstools of your kitchen island, his reading glasses on and what looks like mail in his hand. He’s been home for two days now, relaxing and catching up on sleep, and it’s nice to have another body gravitating around the house, making it feel more like a home.

“Hey rockstar.” You say. He looks up quickly to smile at you before looking back down at the mail, and as you get closer, you can make out that it’s your bills for the month - rent, utilities, car, things of that sort. Next to all of that is a calculator and one of Shawn’s many notebooks, and he’s…he’s…

“Are you splitting the bills in half?” You ask him in disbelief. “Shawn, I told you that while you’re here you don’t have to worry about that. I can afford it.”

Shawn scoffs. “I know you can afford it, but I don’t want you to have to worry about it. I’m using half of it all anyway. I’m living here too, using utilities, using your car, I can pay for my half while I’m here.”

You can tell by his tone that you’re not going to change his mind, so you forfeit with a shake of your head. Shawn rolls his eyes. “Look, it’s late. Why don’t you go shower, okay? I’ll make you dinner.”

“Can’t,” you say. “I didn’t go grocery shopping.”

Shawn smiles, standing from his seat and towering over you. “That’s alright,” he says, rubbing your shoulder. “I did.” He moves to open the refrigerator and freezer doors, displaying that they are indeed fully stocked, before shutting them and moving on to the pantry, displaying your full shelves.

Your jaw drops a little in surprise. “I…I don’t know what to say. Thank you Shawn, really.”

He smiles, turning you around and patting you on the butt playfully. “Now go, shower and when you’re done we can eat.”

You throw a smile over your shoulder but don’t argue, jogging up the steps and into your room. You turn the shower on first, wanting the water to heat up a little as you make your way into your closet. You strip down, tossing your dirty clothes into what was a full hamper this morning when you left for work, but is now empty.

You turn around, looking at your shelves and cubbies to find that Shawn also washed your clothes, and with small suspicion, you inspect the drawers to find that yes, he washed your underwear, and your stomach swoops at the thought of Shawn handling your thongs and gstrings like that.

You don’t give it another thought - heading into your hot showering and getting rid of the day.

When you come out, you’re wearing an oversized crewneck sweater that covers the boyshorts you’re wearing underneath, bra forgotten in your closet. Shawn is sprawled out on your bed, two large bowls of spaghetti and meatballs resting on your nightstand, along with two glasses of iced tea.

“Come sit,” he says, patting the space between his legs. You do so reluctantly, sitting cross legged and facing the TV playing the Goblet of Fire - no doubt Shawn’s choice, before he hands you a bowl and a fork, instructing you to “Eat,” and you do, twirling a bit of pasta around your fork before taking a bite, moaning at the taste. He’s definitely not the best cook, but if Shawn’s good at making anything it’s spaghetti and meatballs.

There’s a gentle drag of a brush through your wet hair that catches you by surprise, and another moan leaves your lips, catching you by surprise at the feeling of the bristles scratching against your scalp. You turn to Shawn, brow raised at his innocent expression. “Whatcha’ doing back there, mister?”

He shrugs, waving your hairbrush around as he explains. “I just thought I’d help you calm down. I remember you said once that you liked when a guy brushed your hair for you sometimes, so I figured if I brushed your hair after you showered while you were eating pasta and watching a movie would help you?”

You would kiss him if he was your boyfriend, astonished by the amount of care he obviously put into this thought and into his actions. You lick your lips, carefully placing your bowl down on the nightstand as launch yourself at him, hugging him tightly. “You’re the best. I love you so much.”

Shawn blushes, unbeknownst to you, and his heart is pounding against his chest, the smell of your shampoo and body wash filling his nostrils, your body against his sending his mind into a frenzy. He schools it all, hugging you back and burying his face into your neck. “I love you too, dude.” He says, hoping it’ll hide his feelings. “Now turn around and eat your spaghetti, you’ve got a lot of hair and I’m not done brushing.”

-

##  **June 2016 - Month Three**

_“He cooked dinner for you (he was a shitty cook in the first place but he learned to cook so he could make dinner for you when you got home)”_

“Can we have lasagna for dinner?!” Shawn calls from the couch. He’s clearly been enjoying his break with you, judging by all the snack wrappers and soda cans sprawled across your coffee table.

You push your script aside and lean across the bar top, resting on your elbows. “Sure, get to it Mendes.” You laugh at his confused face. “Did you forget? I cooked last time. It’s your turn to make dinner.”

He lulls his head back dramatically against the back of the couch, fake agonizing groan leaving his throat and echoing off of the walls. You can’t help but giggle, but he gets off the couch anyway, bumping your hips when he gets into the kitchen. He reaches his long arms up into the pantry shelves, coming up empty.

“Looks like we’ve gotta go to the grocery store,” he whines, giving you those baby eyes he knows you can’t resist. You roll your own eyes at him, grabbing your keys and slipping on your sneakers.

“Wait, where are you going?!” He calls to you, running out in socked feet to the living room.

You laugh at the frantic look on his face. “The store, Shawn. To get stuff for lasagna?”

“But it’s getting dark out. Do you want me to come with you? Shouldn’t you call Preston? Your security guard?”

You can’t help the puzzled expression that crosses your features. Why was he freaking out? “No Shawn, I think I’ll be okay. It’s just Target and I’ll be like twenty minutes.”

“Just get home as soon as possible, okay?!” He calls dramatically, and you laugh at him, blowing a kiss and heading to your car.

-

“No no no, don’t pour too much salt,” you instruct. “You wanna eyeball it, the water only needs so much salt for the lasagna noodles, but not  _that_  much.”

Shawn nods, lip poking out between his lips as he adds a small pinch to the boiling water before adding the noodles. He stirs it up a little, then looks to your for his next instruction.

This has become somewhat of a normal thing since Shawn’s been on break the last two months - you take turns making dinner, sure, but most of the time it’s you teaching Shawn how to cook what he wants to make, and when it’s your turn to cook, Shawn will hover a little to observe, storing the information for later.

“Okay, now slice up the mozzarella.” You say, handing him a knife and the ball of cheese, steadying the cutting board beneath him. “You want slices about a centimeter thick for a good layer of cheese.” Shawn starts cutting, and when you see he’s getting the hang of it, you go to check on the meat sauce, making sure it’s not burning or bubbling over in the pot.

Once it’s time for layering, you spoon up the sauce and spread it in the bottom of the dish, moving out of the way so Shawn can start laying down the noodles, which he does carefully, not wanting to fuck up dinner, but also making sure that he’s getting your approval - which he already has. Another generous scoop of meat sauce, and then you allow Shawn to lay down the mozzarella, before adding another scoop, letting Shawn place the noodles down, then repeating until the dish is full, and the last layer of meat and cheese sits on the top.

Shawn looks proud, his chest sticking out a bit that for the most part, he did make everything on his own, you only needing to step in once or twice this time. He puts the dish into the oven and you set the timer before closing it, and starting on the dishes. Shawn takes a seat on the barstool, propping his elbow up and placing his chin in his hand.

You laugh at him, turning on the sink. “Whatcha up to rockstar?”

He doesn’t look at you, keeps his eyes on the oven when he says “Waiting. Gonna watch it.”

“It’s gotta sit in there for twenty five minutes, bud.”

He looks to you with wide eyes. “That long? It takes twenty five minutes for cheese to melt?”

“We put a lot of cheese in there, so yeah.”

Shawn groans, standing up and coming to join you. “Well, then you scrub and I’ll rinse and put them in the dishwasher, deal?”

You work in tandem, you carefully scrubbing at your dishes before Shawn rinses them off, placing them carefully into the dishwasher. It only takes about seven minutes, and you spend the rest of the time waiting for the pasta on the couch, watching Grey’s Anatomy episodes on Netflix.

Shawn nearly bolts right off the couch when the oven finally “dings,” shoving the oven mitts on his too big hands and taking the lasagna out of the oven, sitting it on top of the little cooling board you put on the counter for him.

He serves for the both of you, and you grab drinks from the fridge before you both settle down on the kitchen island, sitting next to one another on the barstools, playfully knocking elbows as you eat.

“You’re gonna be a great wife.”

Shawn catches you off guard with that, and you stare at the side of his head. He’s too busy eating to pick up on what he just said, and continues to say “Like if I was your husband, I’d never let you go. You’re patient, you’re sweet, you work hard, and you let me watch all the Grey’s and Harry Potter I want. Who wouldn’t want a wife like that?”

It makes you smile, and you want to giggle like one of his fans, but you don’t, so you smile a little and say “Guess you’d better put a ring on it then, Mendes.”

He laughs, looking at you, eyes smiling. “Don’t tempt me, I just might.”

-

##  **July 2016 - Month Four**

_“made you coffee and tea, played songs for you on his guitar”_

The windows are open in your room, the warm summer breeze blowing through and making the curtains dance, the little fairy lights on the edges of the walls creating a calm and quiet ambiance. You and Shawn have both just showered (separately), you resting in a sports bra and boy shorts, no longer embarrassed to be like this in front of him, and he’s shirtless in a loose pair of boxers, his back against your headboard and a guitar in his lap, while you’re laying opposite - your head is by his knees, knees bent and resting on your back. The mugs of tea he made you have gone cold on your nightstand, the smell of lemon and honey still lingering in the air.

You got the day off today, and you and Shawn spent it together - exercising, going for a run around Central Park before coming back here. He did a little yoga with you before you guys ordered delivery for lunch, and the rest of it consisted of you both being couch potatoes, picking random movies to watch On Demand.

It’s the last day before he leaves, his tour starting up again in Boca Raton. He leaves tomorrow morning to prepare for the show the next day, and you’ve been avoiding that little knot in your stomach that lets you know you’re really going to miss him this time when he leaves.

He’s strumming chords on his guitar, transitioning from one song to the next as he hums the lyrics quietly, eyes closed as the warm night air blows his curls around on his head. You’re just listening to him, enjoying your little private concert when he clears his throat, and you turn to look at him, his fingers still strumming.

“I haven’t slept in that bed you bought me.” He notes.

You quirk an eyebrow, unsure of what he means, but he’s right. Since you bought that IKEA bed for him, he hasn’t slept in it - every night after that, and every night he’s been back since break, including last night - he’s slept in your bed with you, and that guest room has been completely left alone.

“Well…I guess it’s good to have the bed just incase.” You offer, unsure of what else to say. He’s been in your bed so much that it’s become second nature to the both of you, and you don’t even know how to quite handle that information.

“I mean…I could start sleeping in there now, but it’d be kinda useless? I uh…my apartment’s going to be ready soon.”

At that, you sit up, staring at him a little. “Is it?”

You hadn’t actually asked him about it - in fact, you kind of forgot that that’s why he was living with you in the first place. He was waiting for the renovations to be finished this entire time and you didn’t even remember that.

He swallows, nods once. “Yeah. They said it’ll be ready by the time tour’s over in September.”

Unbeknownst to you, his apartment’s been ready since April, fully renovated and furnished since last month, but he couldn’t quite bring himself to leave you, and he also didn’t want to. He’s really enjoyed having you around, loves coming home to you, sending you flowers, doing the grocery shopping and playing house with you. He doesn’t want to leave, isn’t ready to but with everything coming up in the next couple of months - the rest of tour, the album release, prepping for the next tour, he’s got to be able to move back to his own condo, and it’s now or never.

“Oh.” You say, and you sound just as upset as he feels.

“Hey,” he says, putting his guitar aside and placing his hand on your thigh. “Gonna need some help moving in though, if you’re in? I need a woman’s touch to the place, you know? At least have someone who knows what they’re doing to organize it, make it look nice.”

You nod, offering a small smile. “Yeah, okay.”

The sadness you both feel at the news makes the summer warmth cool down quite a bit, goosebumps raising on your skin as he pulls you into a hug, the kind of hug you know you’ll miss once he leaves.

-

##  **August 2016 - Month Five**

_“he even ran lines with you into the late morning hours until you fell asleep on his chest from exhaustion”_

You flung your script against the wall, groaning aloud and flopping face down onto your bed and admitting defeat.

“Everything okay in there?” Shawn calls out, and you can hear footsteps padding over to your room.

He’s on another break from tour as of two days ago, his last break, to be exact, and it was times like this that you were happy to have someone else with you in the apartment, to distract you from the stress.

You look up when you hear him approach, and he’s leaning against the doorframe, shirtless and sweaty from his little workout in your downstairs studio. You do everything in your power to keep your eyes on his face and not his body. “I’m going to just quit this movie.”

Shawn frowns. “What? No, don’t quit. You can’t quit, you’re gonna be great at it.”

“I can’t be great at it if I keep forgetting my lines. I can’t get this one scene right and I think it’s because I eventually have to kiss him.”

“Well maybe I can offer you a distraction?” He quips. “Let me shower and change, and you do…well, whatever you want to, I guess, and then we’ll head out? I think Magnolia’s still open and I know how much you love their cupcakes.”

-

Hours later, the sun’s gone down, there are cupcake wrappers scattered across your nightstand, and Shawn dons a serious expression, script copy rolled up and held tightly in his fist. He insisted on helping you run lines for your next scene you had to film in a couple of days - the one you were stressing about earlier.

It was a pretty intense scene - you and your co-star, who played your love interest, were meant to get into a serious argument over petty things and end up kissing. It was the first kiss scene you’d be filming, all the action packed scenes now behind you, and you were too nervous, also sure it wasn’t going to work out well, but Shawn was determined to help you get through it.

“What’s your fucking problem?” Shawn says. He’s pretty convincing in your opinion - sounds pissed off as the character’s supposed to be. “One second you’re in love with me and you want me around forever, the next second you’re ignoring me and treating me like I don’t fucking exist. I don’t get it! What do you want from me?!”

“I don’t know!” You reply, channeling the emotion you know is supposed to be present in this moment.

“Well I know what I want from you.” He replies, taking strides forward and wrapping his arm around your waist, pulling your body tight against his. “I want you. I want all of you. I need you. And I know you need me.” He bends his head down and close to your face, lowering his voice. “Tell me you need me.” He pleads.

This is when you’re supposed to kiss. And dammit if you don’t kiss him. You tilt your head up, connecting your lips together and kissing him fiercely. You get lost in the moment, lost in the way Shawn’s hands wind their way into your hair and how his lips feel against your own.

_Shawn._

You snap out of it, pulling away abruptly, shoving Shawn away from you and taking a deep breath. He’s staring at you, completely stunned by what just happened. Neither of you say a word for a few minutes, searching for what to say, how to feel.

It’s Shawn who breaks the pregnant pause, crossing the room and wrapping you up into another kiss that makes you dizzy, makes you weak, makes you forget you’re running lines, makes you forget you’re just best friends, makes you beg him to take you to bed.

-

You wake in up the morning to loud banging in the kitchen downstairs, followed by the sound of your best friend cursing at whatever mess he most likely just made.

He’s been eighteen for a little over two weeks, so it’s not like what happened last night was illegal, or wrong in any way. In fact, it seems to you like Shawn’s just as happy about it as you are, if the scattering of rose petals from his side of the bed, to the floor, to out your bedroom door are any indication.

You use the bathroom first, taking a quick shower, brushing your teeth, and overall waking yourself up. You put on your matching Calvin Klein boyshort and bralette set, grabbing Shawn’s shirt from last night and putting it on next.

The rose petals confirm your assumption from earlier as they lead you into the kitchen, where Shawn’s standing at the stove, sweatpants slung low on his hips as he uses a spatula to add the pancake he’s working on to the tall stack on the tray next to him.

You giggle a little, causing him to jump, and he smiles widely at you in his clothes, his cheeks flushing red as he turns off the burner.

“Morning,” he says.

“Morning, rockstar.” You say in return, taking your place at the counter.

He carries the tray over to you, along with a pitcher of orange juice, two glasses, and the bottle of maple syrup he insisted on bringing you from Pickering.

“That’s the most Canadian thing I think you’ve ever done.” You remember saying to him.

“You just don’t understand what good maple syrup tastes like.” He said in response, adamantly putting it on the shelf in the fridge.

You eat breakfast in silence, Shawn’s hand resting on your thigh as he eats, thumb rubbing at your skin absentmindedly.

You both don’t feel the need to talk about last night - you don’t really have to. The mutual feelings you share were made obvious, and you both know now that everything you’ve been experiencing individually with the other person over the course of the past few months hasn’t been for nothing.

He obviously likes you a lot, and you like him a lot, so what more needs to be said?

The unspoken thing remains in the air as Shawn kisses your cheek, his lips sticky with syrup as he carries your empty dishes to the sink.

-

##  **September 2016 - Month Six**

_“in truth, the renovations finished after the first two months, but he stuck around for **you**.”_

You cut off your strip of tape, sealing up the last of the three boxes of Shawn’s things that need to go to his condo in Toronto. The rest of his stuff was mostly just his clothes that needed to go into his suitcases, his guitars were in storage, and his furniture was already there, it just needed to be arranged and decorated - something that you promised you’d help him with when you both flew to Toronto tomorrow night.

He’s got a show tonight at Madison Square Garden, and you sent him off to the venue and out of the house about an hour ago. He couldn’t be bothered with packing when the biggest show of his career was tonight, and you couldn’t be bothered to make him focus. You told him you’d finish up packing and that when it was all done, you’d join him at the venue.

Andrew was having someone else from the team swing by later to grab all of Shawn’s stuff, so you made sure to leave it all neatly by your front door before you hopped into your car and headed out, parking your car in the “private parking” area in the back with security.

You were let into the venue by Jake, Shawn’s bodyguard, and led right to his dressing room where he was shirtless, his long legs covered by his black skinny jeans, doing pushups on the carpet.

Jake chuckled a little before leaving you two alone, and at the sound Shawn looked up, smiling at you, but you could tell it was a little misplaced. You knew he had his mind on the show, so you tell him “You’re all packed and ready.”

He gives a sad smile in return. “I don’t want to be, but thank you.”

“It’s okay,” you say. “Besides, I’m sure we’ll see each other just as much next year, right?”

Shawn nods, pulling you into a bear hug. “You’re gonna get sick of me.”

“I never could.” You say honestly into his chest.

You pull away and take a seat on the couch, you kicking your shoes off and resting your socked feet into his lap, like you’re both used to at this point.

Shawn grabs one of them, hand circling your ankle. “You’re going to the New Year’s Eve party, right? The one Andrew’s throwing. You RSVP’ed?”

“Yeah, I did.” You say.

“Great, so then I’ll be your date.” He smiles, rubbing circles onto your skin.

You giggle. “Sure, yeah. I’d like that.”

-

“Shawn! Where do you want this guitar?” You call from his bedroom. It’s the last detail and then he’ll be all done, ready and moved in to his first condo, ready to live on his own.

You’re in Toronto, helping him move in like you promised you would, and he’s probably the worst person to help move in. He starts working on one room then remembers something else he wants in a different room, and moves back and forth, his attention obviously divided.

He walks in, a little breathless, but smiles at the acoustic guitar lying in its case. It’s the one he’s had the entire time he’s lived with you, the one he played songs on for you, the one he showed up on your doorstep with while it was pouring rain.

Shawn seals the case shut and props it up against the wall of the corner of his room, turning to smile at you.

You smile in return, stomach swooping at his loving eyes and he holds his arms open for you to walk into, which you do.

“I guess this is goodbye, roomie.” He says into the top of your hair, lips brushing against your hair.

“Fat chance,” you say. “Can’t get rid of me that easy.”

Shawn chuckles a little. “Wouldn’t dream of it.” He pauses for a moment, then says “but really, I should say thank you. I owe you the world for letting me stay with you.”

“I’d do it again if I got the chance to,” you say honestly, tears threatening to rise and spill over onto his shirt.

“I would too.” He says honestly. Shawn pulls back a little, looking down at you and your teary face and he smiles, bending his head down, tilting your chin up with his hand and connecting your lips softly, only for a moment before pulling away, looking into your eyes and thanking the heavens above for the last six months.


End file.
